


Home is Where the Heart is (with friends)

by AngeNoir



Category: Captain America (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Magic, Pre-Relationship, Werewolves, underage: Steve is 14 and Sam is 15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 15:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4840946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam was 12, four years after Hogwarts staggered back to its feet, a skinny little shrimp came to Hogwarts. This little bit was far too interesting for someone his size, and Sam couldn't stop himself from falling.</p><p>Maybe even from the first time he saw him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home is Where the Heart is (with friends)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FreshBrains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/gifts).



> honestly I wavered between this kind and the other kind of werewolves, and have like 750 words of a Matt/Foggy werewolf story that I may or may not post in the future. I hope my choice to stick with this universe, these werewolves, and this pairing work for you.

SAM: YEAR TWO

Sam leaned back in his seat, shifting in boredom as he waited for the last of the newbies to get Sorted and they could eat. He was starving – his mum said he was at the age where boys were locusts focused on devouring everything possible and eating their parents out of house and home. Sam figured that with his two older brothers, his mum would know, but right now his stomach was growling and he just wanted to eat.

“Rogers, Steve!”

The second-to-last new kid stood up and Sam blinked in surprise.

“A stiff wind would blow that kid over,” Sif muttered out of the corner of her mouth, but her voice was admiring.

“Gryffindor!” the Hat bellowed, barely seconds after the Headmistress had rested it on the kid’s head.

Sam’s attention was dragged back to the kid at the front who looked like the Hat swallowed up his entire upper body. Headmistress McGonogall lifted the hat off his head and Sam squinted at the itty bitty kid as he hopped off the seat and made his way over to the cheering table.

The last kid stood up before his name was called out, swaggering over to the seat, and then sat down and folded his arm. Sam eyed the kid – he wasn’t as rail-thin as the one before him, but he was much, _much_ shorter than most first years were – and pegged the kid for trouble.

“So, Slytherin or Gryffindor?” Sif asked, leaning forward towards as they stared at the Hat as it was placed on the kid’s head.

It sat there, and the entire hall held its breath, waiting for the decision. And waited, and waited, until finally the Hat shouted out, “Ravenclaw!”

The kid popped off the chair, dumping the Hat on the stool, and made his way to the Ravenclaw table, most of which were yelling and cheering even if they were confused about the kid’s Sorting. Sam watched the kid approach and tilted his head towards Sif. “Did Professor McGonogall ever say his name?”

Sif shook her head even as the kid plopped himself down and grinned widely at the table. “We’ll find out, but mark my words – that looks like a Stark.”

“A Stark?” Sam echoed, but then the food appeared on the table and sue him, he was twelve and starving – his attention was elsewhere and he didn’t notice his new housemate until later that night, when getting ready for bed. Stark was doing his best not to talk to anyone, ignoring the people around him.

The next morning, classes started and first years went their separate way from the second years. Ravenclaws had most of their classes with Slytherins, but they shared outdoor classes and Defense Against the Dark Arts with all classes, so Sam got to see his friends in the other houses. He got to see Thor, specifically; Thor was from Norway, a big hulking kid even at thirteen, with big hands he promised to grow into. He was also as sweet as a puppy, constantly poking at Jane Foster from Slytherin, and Sam really thought he should have been Sorted into Hufflepuff, the way he made friends with everyone. As it was, he was good friends with Fandral and Hogun from Hufflepuff, Sif and Sam from Ravenclaw, and Natasha, Clint, Loki, and Jane from Slytherin. Also in his (large) group of friends was Volstag and Bruce, from his own house.

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t friends with more, but Sam had really gotten to know that group. So when they had their free period, they gathered out on the lawn like normal, only Thor had two first years trailing after him.

“You’re that tiny kid!” Sam said, and then flushed.

The kid flushed as well, and the other one next to him, taller and dark-haired instead of blond, clenched his fists. “Who are you to call him tiny, you shrimp?!”

Thor let out a loud laugh, grabbing the darker-haired kid in an amiable headlock. “We’re fine, James, this is Sam! Sam’s a good friend of mine. And this is James, everyone, James and Steve! They live together.”

“They don’t look like brothers to me,” Loki drawled.

The lighter-haired one – Steve – grabbed James’s hand. “We might as well be. Buck took me in, when my mum died. Well, Buck and Buck’s parents.”

Sam watched the group resettle to make space for Steve, James, and Thor, and something shifted in his chest.

 

SAM: YEAR THREE

“You need to lay off Steve, Stark!”

“Rogers starts it more than – half the time!” Stark yelled back.

Sam folded his arms. “Steve doesn’t do shit until you goad him into it, and you know it.”

Stark stormed up the stairs in a huff, growling something under his breath, and Sif chuckled from her seat at the fireplace. “You’d think he’d be brilliant enough to see what’s in front of his nose.”

“That’s normally where we’re the most blind,” Sam said wearily, flopping down onto the couch and then letting out a whine. “Sif, they’re driving me mad, the lot of them.”

“Let Stark and Barnes and Rogers work it out on their own,” Sif said. “You’ve got that essay to complete anyway. It’s none of your concern.”

Sam scowled at the rug. Steve was looking peaky, and Stark might not really have done him much harm but Steve didn’t like people laughing at him. He didn’t do well with humiliation, and he hated Stark’s pranks with a passion. Stark, prickly little shit that he was, alternatively tried to be best friends with Sam, Steve, and Bucky and then tried to make their lives miserable. You could never tell what he was going to do until he did it, really, and it made him impossible to deal with.

Sam let out another whine.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Sam! I’m going to the library where I can have some peace and quiet!” Sif snapped, standing up in a huff and gathering her parchment and quills to her along with all her research books.

Sam watched her go and heaved a sigh. The older students had astronomy classes or were still lingering at dinner; the younger students were either already in bed or eating another round of dessert. There was only one other person in the common room now, and Sam didn’t really want to get to work on his essay at the moment, even if it was due tomorrow afternoon. He’d have a free period between then and now, anyway…

And Steve had looked _really_ upset, and he already looked sick…

Determined, Sam stood up and exited the common room, making his way quickly down the spiral staircase. Steve’s favorite places to retreat was the Quidditch Pitch and the common room; he’d try the common room first, he decided, and went dashing down the corridor and taking the steps two at a time. When he finally stopped in front of the painting that led to the Gryffindor common room, he smiled at the stern matron in the frame. “I’m actually just looking for someone; can you tell me if Rogers is in the common room, or in the Gryffindor dorms?”

The matron looked him up and down once before smiling, and really, that transformed her whole face. “A minute, dearie,” she said kindly, and disappeared.

A few seconds later, she returned, looking sympathetic. “Sorry, love, he hasn’t been back from dinner yet. Shall I tell him you’re looking for him when he comes?”

“Ah – thanks, but that’s okay!” Sam said, whirling on his heel and barreling down the hall. That probably meant Steve was outside; Steve loved the outdoors, even though it made his eyes tear up and his nose itch.

(Sam had gotten pretty good at anti-allergy spells.)

The Quidditch Pitch was dark by now, but there was a soft glow from torches lining the base of the stadiums. The moonlight helped; it was just a bit after the full moon, and the silver light made it easy to see one mop of tow-headed hair in the midst of empty seats. Sam slowed his pace and made his way up to where Steve was looking at him in exasperation.

“What?” Sam asked, trying (and failing) to keep his voice from showing just how out of breath he was.

“You’ve been looking for me since dinner, haven’t you?” Steve accused.

Sam hitched a shoulder and threw himself onto the bench next to Steve, limbs akimbo as he panted shallowly for breath. “Well, I _did_ go back to the common room. Briefly.”

“You are such a worrywart,” Steve said fondly. “Worse than Buck, I swear.”

“No one’s worse than Barnes,” Sam sighed. “He glares at me, still.”

“He thinks you’re trying to oust him from my best friend spot,” Steve said dryly, and then he giggled. “He also thinks Stark’s an asshole and anyone from Stark’s house ought to muzzle him for the greater good.”

Sam sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stark has got… issues. Which doesn’t help but honestly, take everything he says with a grain of salt. You know that half of what he says is designed to rile you up.”

With a grunt, Steve leaned back and looked up at the starry sky. “There’s so many of them here,” he murmured. “You can’t see them at all where I live. Too much light pollution.”

In the moonlight, Sam couldn’t see the bags under Steve’s eyes, the trembling of his hands, the skinniness of his arms. All he could see was the peaceful expression over Steve’s face, his robes swallowing up his form.

Clearing his throat, Sam pulled his gaze away, feeling his cheeks heat. “You and Barnes live together, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling. “His mum was nice enough to take me in. She was surprised to find out we were both wizards, let me tell you.”

Sam shifted on the bench. “You think you guys could visit during the summer? It’s an awfully long time away from you. And you’d get to practice your charms!”

Hitching a shoulder, Steve leaned forward again, bracing thin wrists on his knees. “I dunno. Mrs. Barnes has a lot of kids to feed, and Bucky helps look after them. So do I.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Sam said, and sighed. “Well. You feeling better now?”

With a huff of laughter, Steve shook his head. “Stark just gets under my skin. He’s always going after Bucky, and I don’t like bullies.”

“No, I meant – you looked pretty sick, earlier. You’ve been looking sick for a couple of days now. You feeling okay?”

It was dark, and the only real light they had was moonlight, but even then Sam would swear Steve grew as pale as a ghost. “Yeah,” Steve said, thought his voice seemed strangled. “Yeah, I’m doing okay.”

It was another suspicious reaction, and Sam filed it away with other small things he noticed. Instead, all he did was nod. “Good,” he murmured. “I get worried when you’re sick.”

Humming under his breath in agreement, Steve shifted closer and leaned against Sam’s side. “You’re a good friend, Wilson, for all that you share a house with Stark.”

“Oi!” Sam said, laughing, but even when they went back inside, he could feel the heat of Steve pressed along his side like a brand.

 

SAM: YEAR FOUR

“That’s highly invasive,” Sif said in a bored drawl.

Sam flushed, but resolutely shook the parchment in her face again. “But it’s right, right?”

She looked up from her books, annoyed. “You might not have to prepare for your OWLs, but I do, and right now you’re making it difficult for me to study. Do you want me to curse you six ways to Azkaban?”

Grumbling under his breath, Sam slunk off. It was three months into his fourth year, almost a full year since that night with Steve where he realized he was in love with his best friend. Sam did his best not to be overly clingy or invasive, but it was hard when his meticulous charts showed that Steve had _some_ kind of disease that was chronic. Mumbling to himself about best friends who didn’t help him help others, he made his way up the staircase to his dorm and nearly bowled over Stark.

“What the hell, Sam?” Stark growled, stumbling backwards.

“Sorry,” Sam sighed. “Where are you heading?”

“Quidditch practice,” Stark sighed. “Johnson wants to run through more maneuvers before…” He trailed off, cocked an eyebrow at Sam. “What’s the matter? You normally don’t go around looking like a kicked puppy. I thought only Rogers could put that look on your face.”

Sam opened his mouth to deny everything before hesitating. Sif was brilliant, yeah, and she was great at putting together small pieces of information into a larger whole, but Tony Stark was on a whole other level of genius, and he wasn’t as much of a dick to Sam by himself. In public, especially around Rogers and Barnes, yeah, but in the common room he was almost pathetically eager to show off and help others.

“I have this – I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with Steve. He’s always sick, you know?”

Tony rubbed his head and squinted, eyes distant. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he said slowly. “James always gets pretty cagey then, too.”

Of course Tony would notice Bucky’s moods more than Steve, but then again, Tony was infatuated with Bucky in the same way that Sam was with Steve. “Here,” Sam said, handing over his sheet of paper. “This is the symptoms, and the days, and activities I tried to link together. I’ve gone over so many medical texts…” He trailed off and sighed.

Tony’s brow furrowed. “These dates seem familiar… Let me check this later, okay? Before Johnson gets his knickers in a twist even more. As if he’d ever find a better Keeper than me,” he grumbled, darting down the stairs.

Well, at least he had help now. He was seriously coming up dry. Steve had never been in the best of health, but looking through medical texts had yielded no explanation for the varying symptoms and the almost clockwork illness. Sam figured that there was some level of medication that Steve took, and it ran out on those days. He didn’t quite understand why the medication couldn’t get rid of the illness, especially since there was apparently enough medicine to keep Steve from feeling the effects of the illness for the majority of the month.

But knowing Stark’s mind was also bent on the problem eased his worry, which then made it easier to set the parchment down on his bed and pull out his books to start researching for his Potions’ essay.

It was a few hours later, after dinner and when Sam was chilling on his bed with a book, when Tony came bursting into the room and then slammed the door behind him, locking it with one of the stronger locking charms.

“Stark, what—”

“I figured it out!” Tony said, whispering loudly and excitedly. “I was doing Astronomy classes last year, and you know Ravenclaw normally pairs up with Slytherin or Hufflepuff, but I needed to – well, okay, Astronomy’s a shit class, I hated it then, I still hate it and I tried to drop it for Ancient Runes this year. Apparently, it’s a mandatory class. You have it too, you know. Don’t you have to still take it in fourth year?”

“Yeah, but—”

Tony wasn’t listening. “Anyway, so I didn’t enjoy the class and didn’t care for it so I had to do some extra credit work to pass, and it stuck me outside with the Gryffindors a lot, so I noticed that every time I was stuck doing this work – seriously, how many times can you draw a bloody full moon? – James was always distracted, upset. More snappish than normal – especially if I brought Rogers up. I double-checked the dates you gave, and they _all_ line up with the full moon!”

Sam frowned at him. “And this matters because…?”

“The full moon?” Tony repeated, in a voice that indicated he thought Sam was very dull. “ _Every_ full moon?”

When Sam looked at him with an eyebrow raised, Tony let out a theatrical sigh. “I know you guys were on the continent during the war, but come _on_. There’s only one magical creature that reacts to the full moon by feeling sick. And your first two guesses don’t count.” Then, Tony paused. “Only, you’re thick enough that maybe they have to count, because I’m seriously losing faith in why you were put in this house. You’re too Hufflepuff.”

It took Sam a little bit longer before his eyes popped. “ _No_ ,” he breathed.

Tony grinned sharply. “ _Now_ you’re getting it,” he crowed.

***

The next morning, Sam grabbed Bucky’s elbow and led him away from the Great Hall. “Just give us a minute, Thor, Steve,” he said quickly, and then pulled Bucky into a small alcove.

“Every full moon, Bucky?” he hissed, and watched fear, anger, and then resignation dash across his face before Bucky’s face smoothed out into a calm mask.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he said cuttingly.

Sam shook his head. “I’m not saying this to – to piss you off, or something. I’m saying this because I wanna know if you guys need help. Does all of Gryffindor know?”

After a tense couple of seconds, Bucky relaxed marginally and shrugged jerkily. “We’re doing okay. Not everyone likes werewolves, you know, prejudiced. S’why mum took Stevie in; he had a pureblood cousin or something, and they didn’t want nothing to do with him.”

“Well, how is he handling full moons? I get that they’re painful, but the Headmistress gets him his potion, right?” Sam whispered. “Or should we be brewing it for him?”

“Nah, he gets his potion,” Bucky replied. “He just – it hurts him, you know, and he doesn’t really like being cooped up for it but if a wolf ran wild on the full moon, well…”

Sam furrowed his brow. Staying cooped up in one room was hell on Sam’s own cat; he couldn’t imagine what it was like for a wolf. “Lemme look up stuff, see if I can find precedent for this or something. Maybe there’s a way to smuggle him out if we use the right passageway…”

Before he could step away, though, Bucky’s hand clasped onto his shoulder, tight. Startled, Sam looked up to see Bucky’s deep brown eyes. “Thanks, Wilson. I mean, I get you fancy him and all, but it’s not a lot of wizards who’d simply roll with something this big.”

Sam felt his cheeks flush. “What – who said – where?”

“C’mon, I’m hungry,” Bucky said, pushing past Sam and making his way into the Great Hall.

Sam followed at a slower pace, and made his way over to his table and took a seat opposite Tony. Tony wasn’t exactly popular in the house, because he lorded it over everyone else and had a too-sharp tongue and too light a trigger-finger on it, and so he was mostly by himself.

“I guess Barnes confirmed it for you?” he murmured.

Sam nodded. “He says Steve gets bored, doesn’t like staying in his room those nights. Otherwise, he gets the – the medicine he needs.”

“Of course he does,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “That kid’s more active than I would think someone of his physical stature could be, let alone someone with the list of diseases he has could be. Do you need to find him space to run around, then? I know a few passages that I’m not sure everyone does; we could use those—”

“Yeah, but Barnes pointed out that – that at that time of month, having Steve roaming like that would be a problem,” Sam said, voice as low as he could make it.

Tony’s eyes gained that quality of looking for a solution to a problem. “Hmm. Invisibility potion doesn’t exist, and I guess there’s no guarantee we could keep him in the Forbidden Forest, or that the Forest would be empty. I’ll think on it,” he said after a moment. “I already think I know what to do – just need to verify—”

“Becoming an unregistered Animagus is dangerous,” Sam said immediately.

“Oh, come on!” Tony whined. “That’s more fun! And if other students could do it, we can do it too. They weren’t even Ravenclaw!”

“They had more raw magical power, I bet!” Sam hissed. “I was thinking of just finding him a room where he can run about!”

Tony pouted. “You’re no fun.” After a few moments of silently chewing on his toast, he brightened. “Why don’t we ask Bucky?”

Sam narrowed his eyes at Tony, but he didn’t say no fast enough before Tony was cackling like a madman and dashing out of the Great Hall.

Merlin’s _balls_.

Well, at least Bucky should put an end to that type of nonsense thinking anyway.

 

SAM: YEAR FIVE

“I don’t know how you sucked me into this,” Sam grumbled under his breath.

Sif rolled her eyes at him. The lot of them were all gathered around a table in the library, all huddled around the magical texts that explained how to become Animagi – at least, the magical texts students could get to without being observed. The only one not present was Tony, which was odd and Sam was resolutely not thinking about what it could mean that the main impetuous behind this bad decision was not actually here for the final strategy meeting.

(Okay, so he liked the idea too and hadn’t dragged his feet as much as he could have. So sue him.)

Thor smiled wickedly, eyes dancing, even as Clint let out a little huff of air. “You’re a worrywart, and that’s adorable,” Natasha drawled, “but it’s a little late to be complaining about the end results.”

“Tonight, under the Slytherin bleachers,” Bucky repeated. “We’ve all memorized the spell, we’ve all been practicing – I _hope_ we have—” here he cut a scathing look over at Bruce, who looked both pale and unconcerned, a feat in and of itself, “—and we’ll see how far we can go tonight. Then we’ll see about sneaking Steve down tomorrow night, and actually having a go of it for real.”

Thor grinned, and opened his mouth to say something before his face took on that peculiar lovestruck look he reserved only for Foster. “Tonight,” he agreed absently, and stood up from the table.

Sam sighed. “Well, at least we have backup plans. No one else feels an impending sense of doom creeping up on them?”

“You’re the dramatic one, Sam,” Sif said, patting him on the head. “I’m going to review the spell so I don’t mess it up. Hate to transform half of myself and not the other half, after all. I wonder if you can get stuck between forms.”

Sam’s heart froze, even as Natasha stood up with Sif and murmured disapprovingly, “Now, that wasn’t very nice, was it?”

Clint also stood, and he tapped his boot against Sam’s chair. “You’ll do fine. I’m more worried about Bruce, honestly, because he’s worried. The rest of us will probably do fine.” He paused and then shrugged. “Or, at least, we won’t die.”

“That’s reassuring,” Sam grumbled, standing up and grabbing the books to his chest before going to the librarian and checking them out for the fifth time.

That night, he snuck out of the tower and out onto the Pitch minutes after midnight. Thor was already there, looking a mite hangdog.

“You alright there, Thor?” Sam asked, rubbing his shoulders against the unusually early cold snap that made the wind whip about the wooden beams.

“Jane is far too focused on her studies to allot me time,” Thor sighed. “At the least, she hasn’t dumped me yet.”

“Give her time,” Sam said. “She’s really focused on doing well and preparing for her NEWTs, you know that.”

Thor nodded, even as more dark shapes made their way towards the small circle of light Thor had cast against the ground. The shapes slowly revealed themselves to be Sif, Bruce, and Bucky. It was only minutes later when Clint and Natasha also appeared.

“Should we wait for Stark?” Thor asked, looking around at them.

“He’s on his way,” Bruce replied, and then before anyone could say anything else, he muttered the incantation and furrowed his brow.

Slowly, his features began melting like wax, dissolving and then with a poof of air, small, tiny Bruce with the soft speech and genteel manner was a hulking brown bear.

“Morgana’s _tits!_ ” Clint yelped, jumping back and banging his elbow against the wood.

Bruce swung his head towards Clint, and really, transforming into an animal was only half the battle. The other half was trying to retain human thoughts, emotions, and rationale within the instincts of a beast. Biting his lip, Sam stepped forward and tapped Bruce’s shoulder gingerly, having that huge (teeth-lined) maw turn towards himself. “Hey, hey Bruce, you’re amazing, do you know that?”

Everyone, it seemed, held their breath and then Bruce let out a sigh and transformed back into himself, panting hard. “Merlin’s beard, that’s rough,” he gasped.

Grinning, Clint waved his wand and said proudly, “Transmutatio io bestia pud mana!”

There looked as if there was a lurch in the air, and then a sparrow appeared, perched on the ground.

Natasha bent down and cupped her hands around the tiny, shaking creature. “You’re utterly adorable. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Then she turned to place him in Bruce’s hands. When she turned back, Thor had his wand out, as did Bucky. She grinned. “On three?”

“Fuck that,” Bucky grumbled, and then waved his wand.

Immediately, Natasha and Thor followed suit, followed by Sif, and Sam watched Bucky turn into a huge dog, brown and black, and Natasha into a sleek black-spotted brown cat. Thor ended up a horse, of all things, and Sif an owl.

Sighing, Sam pulled out his wand only to see a dark shape growing larger, coming right at them. Terrified he was going to get caught, he quickly waved his wand and muttered the charm.

His eyesight changed almost abruptly, in a lurching movement that had him wanting to throw up. Everything about his weight and center of gravity changed, and he found himself leaning forward, balanced on two legs but with really difficult toes that made it hard for him to balance. Immediately he was hit with a deep, primal fear that had him freezing. He wasn’t meant to be on the ground – he was going to get caught!

Before he could really register the desire, he was transforming back, muddled and confused, and fell down on his ass. Having two hands felt strange, and his feet felt too flat, too clumsy. The dark shape has in front of him but his eyes were unable to focus.

Sound came back slowly, as two hands clutched at his shoulders and alternatively shook him and rubbed his skin.

“—seriously, what the hell? I mean I’m glad and all that you guys could change but not one of you could wait for me? This is ridiculous, and I think you’re going into shock and I don’t know what the hell I’m going to tell Pomfrey about this—”

“Stop shaking him, Stark!”

“His eyes aren’t tracking – look at that! They’re not tracking at all!”

Weakly, he lifted a hand and clutched at one of the wrists gripping his shoulders. “Tony?” he croaked.

The fourth year let out a sudden, shuddering sigh, and then Tony’s head was pressed against his chest. “Don’t you ever fucking scare me like that again,” he growled. “I thought for sure you rattled your bloody brains loose.”

“Were we really supposed to wait for you?” Sam grunted, blinking his eyes fast and often to try and readjust his sight.

Tony leaned back, and this close Sam could see both hurt and uncertainty on his face. “No, you guys didn’t have to, I just – I mean, I’ll just do it now.”

“Go on,” Sif said. “It’s late and I have classes tomorrow that I can’t skip, unlike you.”

“Hey, I only skip the boring classes,” Tony grumbled, and he pulled out his wand and mouthed the spell.

In moments, a spotted orange and black cat with a black-tipped tail sat in front of Sam. Unlike the others, who transformed and sat or transformed and then transformed back, Tony immediately tried to get up and proceeded to fall on his nose. With an indignant yowl, the cat reared back and suddenly Tony was there, in its place.

“Serves you right for trying to walk right away,” Natasha chuckled.

Bucky barely noticed; he was obviously eager and nervous in turns, and he cut in harshly, “Okay, so – great! I’ll bring Steve down tomorrow – you’ve got that route we can smuggle him out by, right?”

Tony nodded.

“Great, great. This is just great! Merlin’s balls. He’ll be so excited. Also pissed, but, you know.” Bucky shook his head, and then shot off towards the school.

The rest of them followed at a more sedate and calm pace, with Tony and Sam taking the rear. Throwing an arm around Tony’s skinny shoulders, Sam leaned down to whisper at Tony, “You okay? I’m sorry we couldn’t wait.”

Tony shrugged. “No, I get why you couldn’t, I just – anyway, nothing happened, we’re all good. We were lucky, but then again we’re the – I don’t even know what to call our ragged group. Maybe the idiots.”

“Try telling that to Natasha or Sif,” Sam said dryly.

Tony laughed, a little weakly. “Well, Steve will definitely be surprised to see you like that.”

“Aw, I didn’t even ask anyone! Tell me, what was I?”

Tony shrugged. “Some type of bird. Reddish feet. Blueish or greyish wings. Midnight isn’t that great for catching distinguishing features.”

A bird made sense, Sam thought, remembering the height and different balance. He was still preoccupied even as they snuck back to their dormitory, getting a huff from the knocker, and even to his bed, Sam was still fascinated that this actually worked.

It actually _worked_!

***

“Is he really pissed at us?” Sam whispered to Bucky at the back of their History of Magic class.

He ignored Sam, as he always did, and Sam poked his neck with the feather part of his quill. “C’mon, Barnes, what gives?”

Barnes turned a withering glare on him.

Sinking down in his chair, Sam looked back at the front of the class where Steve sat ramrod-straight, ignoring even Stark – which was a feat in and of itself. Grumbling under his breath, Sam scratched doodles into the side of his notes and generally stewed over the fact that Steve was really unappreciative of their efforts.

When class dismissed, Sam tried to catch up to Steve, only to get nabbed by Natasha and Clint. He was beginning to really see the ‘scary-twin’ thing Tony described when talking about them, because they pulled him into a classroom and sat him down in a chair before staring at him.

“What?” he finally asked.

“Steve and Bucky are fighting because Steve says it was too dangerous to become Animagi, though we think it’s just because Steve was kept out of the loop. He hates feeling like people are doing fun things without him – and he’s even more sensitive about it than usual because _you_ were involved and didn’t tell him.” Clint reported.

“So what you need to do is convince him you meant this as a fun, happy surprise, and not a ‘look-what-we-achieved-without-you-even-noticing’ surprise,” Natasha ended.

Sam looked back and forth between the two of them. “That’s ridiculous. Why would Steve be upset I didn’t tell him? Why wouldn’t he be equally upset that Stark was in on it, or that Bucky didn’t tell him?”

Natasha let out a long sigh and Clint tsked at Sam, “Two _idiots_ , I swear.”

“More than two. At least Thor has been up front about it with Jane. Otherwise I’d lose all hope for your gender entirely,” Natasha grunted.

“ _Talk_ to Steve. Corner him if you have to. Because let’s be real; it’s super cool I can change into an animal, and yeah, I did it because Steve’s a nice guy and I don’t mind doing this for him but I also did this because I really wanted to, and I’m not stopping because Steve’s got his knickers wedged up his arse,” Clint said frankly.

Natasha more or less then shoved Sam outside the door – and Sam tripped forward and fell on top of Steve.

“Oh Merlin I’m so sorry!” Sam said, rolling aside and trying not to freak out that he crushed the tiny form of Steve.

Behind him, over his shoulder, he could see Natasha and Clint peering out around the door, their eyes going wide, and then firmly closing the door.

He hated his friends sometimes.

“I’m fine,” Steve grumbled. “I’m okay.”

“Let me help you pick up your stuff—”

“I said I’m okay, Sam, Merlin! What’s wrong with everyone, they think that I can’t handle things myself?!” Steve snapped.

Sam froze, and then blinked at Steve. “Is that why you’re pissed at us? You think we’re babying you?”

Steve refused to answer, just grabbed his stuff and stood up.

Sam scrambled to his feet and half-ran, half-walked after Steve. “You do, don’t you? You’re not pissed we didn’t tell you, you’re not pissed because Bucky and I didn’t keep you in the loop, you’re not even upset because being unregistered is dangerous – you’re pissed that we think you need friends? What kinda logic is that, huh?”

“You guys decided what I needed without even _talking_ to me!” Steve hissed, whirling on his heel. “You didn’t bother to ask whether I even wanted to run around or whatever shit you have in your minds! You just bloody decided for me!”

Sam folded his arms and arched an eyebrow at Steve. “Yeah, okay, I’m not buying any of that because first of all, that’s how _all_ presents work – we think you could use something, we get it for you, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Second, we’re your _friends_. We’re not trying to – take away your choices or whatever bloody stupidity you’ve got cooked up in your mind. Do you honestly think if you told Bucky no, he’d forcibly kidnap you and drag you outside before moonrise?”

“Stark and Engman don’t even like me!” Steve growled.

It took Sam a bit to place Sif’s last name – he rarely heard it, even from their professors – but he grabbed Steve’s shoulders and held the slight fourth-year in place. “Stark likes you. He doesn’t show it in the best way because he’s crushing on your best friend, but he likes you and he wants to help you. Engman thinks we’re _all_ idiots, like Natasha, but she thinks you’re less of an idiot than you could be.”

After a heartbeat of silence, Steve’s face squinched up and he said, choking, “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Sam chuckled, and in moments the two of them were howling with laughter, leaning on one another, and before Sam could really think his actions through, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Steve’s nose.

Steve jerked back, surprised.

“Sorry!” Sam said, immediately backpedaling. “I mean – I should’ve done that better. Sorry! Just – okay, forget I did that, I guess, look man—”

Steve lunged forward and nearly bit Sam’s lip off in a return kiss that landed on Sam’s lips. The two broke apart almost as quickly as Steve had shoved them back together again, wincing.

“That was – more graceful in my head,” Steve mumbled.

“Yeah?” Sam asked, a smile blooming over his face.

Steve shrugged his shoulders and looked down. “You’re pretty thick for a Ravenclaw, you know that, right?”

“Hey, we’re all pretty thick when it comes to relationships. Look at Bucky and Tony.”

Steve laughed a little. “Yeah.”

Sam hesitated a moment, and then said tentatively, “Why are you mad at us?”

Heaving a sigh, Steve grumbled, “I don’t like thinking I didn’t even notice the rest of you studying something like this,” he said. “I don’t like having people know about the – my problem. And I really don’t like people trying to do things for me they think would be great without ever consulting me.”

“But – look, okay, I can understand the first two. But people are always going to try and do great things for you. They’re gonna give you presents, buy you food, hell, decide that you need an extra wand on hand if you get the sneezes again. It’s not – it’s not the way you’re making it out to be.” Sam took a step forward, into Steve’s personal space. “It’s really not.”

“I know,” Steve sighed.

Carefully, Sam leaned down, pressing a kiss against Steve’s lips, making sure it wasn’t rushed or hurried or anything at all, just the two of them, and he breathed out slow and steady.

“So,” Steve said, cheeks pink but eyes dancing. “Are you finally gonna ask me out, Wilson?”

Sam let out a bark of startled laughter and rubbed his neck ruefully. “Well, of course, Rogers. Whyever would you think otherwise?”

***

“We need a cool name.”

“Give it a rest, Stark!” Sif growled. The group of them were splayed out in the Gryffindor common room, tired and sore. They had managed to sneak Steve out and had a good run with him, but they were exhausted and had classes in thirty minutes. Not to mention their entire evening had been spent in intense physical activity.

“I don’t _do_ body aches,” Natasha complained. “Give me a massage, Barton.”

“Fuck off,” Clint grunted, draped over an ottoman, face down.

Steve came into the common room and stopped, surveying the eight of them in various stages of near-death. “You’re lucky you’re my friends and I don’t mind the fact that you’re a buck of lunatics, the lot of you,” he said loftily, putting a tray of scones with jam, honey, and butter in the middle of the general pile. “Good luck in classes today. _I_ have an excused absence.”

“Fuck you, buddy,” Bucky moaned.

Laughing, Steve made his way unsteadily upstairs, and Sam found it within himself to drag himself upright and stagger after him.

“Can I lie down with you?” he asked, trying to look as pathetic as possible.

“You have classes,” Steve chuckled, sliding under the covers of his bed.

Sam gave him puppy eyes.

“Oh, bloody hell. Fine, alright, come here,” Steve said, and Sam was moving before he even finished saying the word ‘hell,’ curling up against Steve’s side and relaxing against the soft mattress.

Steve let out a small, satisfied sigh and pressed a kiss to the corner of Sam’s mouth. “You need a better game plan.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”


End file.
